


With My Broken Mind, I Fly

by ranguvar82



Series: The Angel and the Doctor [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has Issues (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale goes to therapy too, Crowley Has Issues (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley goes to therapy, Fluff, Immortal!Crowley, Light Angst, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), They're both a huge mess, crowley has wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82
Summary: It's been three months since Crowley was freed from Heaven. Three months since he and Aziraphale moved into this cottage by the seaside. This is a story of healing, of hope, and of some much needed catharsis.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Angel and the Doctor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787206
Comments: 79
Kudos: 134





	1. Hold Me, Break Me

With My Broken Mind I Fly

Chapter One: Hold Me, Break Me

Crowley sat cross legged on the cliff edge, staring out at the ocean below. The waves lapped against the shore, and the breeze lifted the hair off his shoulders, blowing it into his face. He brushed it back.

A gull cried out in the distance, and Crowley watched as it dove for a scrap of food on the sand far below. He spread his wings out, letting the ocean breeze run through the feathers. He stood, then took a deep breath and swan dived off the cliff.

He let himself plummet for a few moments, feeling the adrenaline rush of danger that never failed to excite him(and give his angel a heart attack, so it was a good thing Aziraphale wasn’t here) before flapping his wings and pulling up at the very last second. He soared over the ocean, then dipped down, flying low enough so he could create wake trails with his fingers. The water was cold, and goosebumps broke out over his bare skin. He soared up, performing a few loop the loops.

He didn’t notice the gull until it slammed into his head, shrieking in bird anger. Crowley shrieked in return, the stabbing pain of the gull’s beak breaking his concentration. With a scream of horror, he plummeted towards the ocean, hit the water with a splash that sent up a jet of water ten feet into the air, and sank like a stone beneath the surface.

His wings were becoming waterlogged, and he struggled to straighten himself up and kick towards the surface, but his body wouldn’t obey him. Crowley gasped, swallowed ocean water, and thought bitterly that of all the ways to die and come back, drowning by seagull was right up there with the most humiliating.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, and he felt himself being hauled to the surface. He spat out water, staring open mouthed at his savior. “Aziraphale?”

“You...bloody...IDIOT!” Aziraphale was treading water, glaring daggers at Crowley. “What have I told you, Crowley?! No flying unless I’m there! You lose concentration far too easily! And yet, here you are!”

Crowley pouted, tracing a pattern in the water. “Wasn’t m’fault. Seagull hit me.” He started to grin, but stopped at the sight of the furious doctor. “’Sides, not like anything c’n happen to me. I’d come back.”

“That is not the point, and you know it! The point is, I asked you to do this one thing, and you didn’t! What if you had been spotted? What if I hadn’t decided to come look for you, which by the way you’re damn lucky I did! Oooh...it’s freezing. Let’s go home so I can yell at you properly.”

Crowley gulped. Aziraphale rarely yelled, so he must really be pissed. “Crowley sorry, Angel.”

“Save it. Come on, I’m sure dinner’s burnt onto the stove by now.”

Crowley let himself be led back up the cliff and down the path to the small cottage, head hung in remorse. Dinner was indeed burnt, and Aziraphale groaned in annoyance, tossing the pan and its contents straight into the bin. Crowley sniffled, then began sobbing out his apologies. “’M sorrry….”

Aziraphale sighed(one more of affection than exasperation) and came over, taking Crowley’s hands in his own. “I am sorry as well. I shouldn’t have blown up like that. But you know that we can’t risk you being seen, especially since you can’t hide your wings away.” He lifted Crowley’s hands, kissing the knuckles. “Tell you what. Let me get some dry clothes on, and we’ll give dinner another go. I’m sure we’ve got something here.”

Crowley smiled shyly. “Crowley help?”

“Of course, my love.”

Dinner part two turned out to be spaghetti bolognese with slightly burnt homemade garlic toast. After, Aziraphale and Crowley went over to the large sectional sofa that took up nearly half the living room(it was large enough so Crowley could stretch out his wings if he wanted to). Aziraphale ran his fingers through the silken feathers, careful not to go against the grain. “Crowley? Why do your feathers have those barbs?”

Crowley shivered. He loved when his angel stroked his wings. “W’s Gabriel. Made modifications. Think he was trying to make weapon wings. C’n be used to stab if Crowley want to defend self.”

“Ah. Right.” Aziraphale frowned. “It’s been, what now…?”

“Three months.” Crowley whispered, staring into the distance. Three months since he was freed from his prison, three months since Aziraphale had found this cottage and they had moved in together. It still stunned him, how quickly his life had gone from nightmare to dream come true. But there was still…

“You okay, love? You’re awful quiet.”

Crowley sighed. “I...don’t know how to answer that, Angel. My mind is not what it used to be, and it betrays me sometimes. I find myself thinking that I’m dreaming all this, that Gabriel succeeded in driving me mad, and I’m still locked in that room, in the cold, in the dark, all alone. You never came to Heaven, never found me, never saved me...or worse, you did come and were just like Gabriel, cold, calculating, only in it for the fame and glory. I can’t...always tell what’s real and what’s not.”

“Oh, my love.” Aziraphale leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Crowley’s head. “I am real. This is real. I love you, and you are not in that room. You are here, with me, and you are so, so loved. If I have to, I will spend the rest of our lives making sure you know that.”

Crowley blinked back tears. “Angel...my life may well last far beyond yours. With my healing factor, I’m pretty much immortal. But you...I don’t want to lose you.”

Aziraphale hugged him. “Love, we’ll worry about that when we have to. Even if I’m old and wrinkled, I’ll still be yours.”

Crowley laughed softly. “I’ll never be old or wrinkled, Angel. Healing gene stops aging too. I wish I wasn’t a wreck of a genius, because then I could figure out how to make you like me.”

“Maybe we could figure it out together. I’d love to spend Eternity with you.”


	2. Catch Me, Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunrise on the beach and passions ignited.

Chapter Two: Catch Me, Save Me

Aziraphale approached the table, scalpel in hand. The sheet covered his patient, and his other medical tools lay in a neat row, glistening and gleaming. He was sweating under the lights of the operating room, and his mask felt like it was three sizes too small.

The figure under the sheet trembled, and Aziraphale could almost make out a low whimpering sound. With his free hand, he pulled the sheet off in one fluid motion, staring in shock at the figure underneath.

It was Crowley. The man was strapped down, his wings pinned behind him and a gag stuffed into his mouth. He was looking at Aziraphale, eyes wide with shock and terror as his head shook frantically back and forth, tears flowing down his face.

Aziraphale lifted the scalpel, fully intending to slice through the gag and untie Crowley, but his hand didn’t want to obey him. Frozen, he watched as it bit deep into the immortal’s chest, slicing him open from stem to stern. Crowley’s scream of pain was deafening, even with the gag. Aziraphale’s hand moved again, biting and slicing into the arm. Blood spurted, splashing Aziraphale’s whites and face.

The scalpel moved again, its point digging into Crowley’s throat…

Aziraphale bolted upright, his scream still echoing through the cottage. Crowley was awake seconds later, shock written on every line of his body. “Angel? What wrong?” He gasped when Aziraphale threw himself into his arms, sobbing and shaking. “Angel?”

“Oh thank the Lord it wasn’t real you’re here you’re alive I didn’t hurt you I didn’t I...” the doctor babbled, clinging tightly to his love. “I...I had the Dream, only it was you on the table, and you were...I was hurting you, but I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it….” Aziraphale sobbed out. Crowley pulled him close, kissing his golden curls. “I love you so m...much...”

“Shh.” Crowley rocked Aziraphale, cooing softly. “Crowley love Angel too. Always love Angel. Know Angel never hurt Crowley and mean it.” Aziraphale sighed, relaxing in his embrace. “Angel need...drink?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, Angel just need you.” Crowley wrapped his wings around them both, creating a cocoon. Aziraphale laid his head on his shoulder. “Crowley? You know how you always say I smell like apples?”

“Uh huh. Is my favorite smell. Why?”

Aziraphale looked up at him. “You smell like cinnamon and cloves. Like fire. Like...”

“Warm?”

Aziraphale giggled. “Yes, like warm.” He yawned, settling himself more firmly against the immortal. “’M gonna try to go back to sleep now. Keep your wings around me?” Crowley nodded. “Lovely. G’night, my love.”

“Good night, my Angel.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s head again, then fell asleep, propped up against the headboard.

The next morning saw them both awake before the sunrise, bustling about the kitchen and packing a large wicker basket with a large thermos of coffee(for Aziraphale) another one filled with cocoa(for Crowley, who had discovered that he had a sweet tooth, much to Aziraphale’s delight and occasional chagrin), a large green tin filled with chocolate scones made by Aziraphale with ‘help’ from Crowley, a blanket(tartan, of course) and a notepad and several colored pencils. Crowley had discovered that he was quite the artist, and the fridge in the kitchen was covered in his drawings. Most were of the same subject, but a few were of the nearby beach and land surrounding their home.

“We have everything?” Aziraphale ran through the checklist in his head. Crowley rolled his eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Yes yes we do we have to hurry or it will be too late come on Angel come on!” He pleaded, tugging on his angel’s arm. Laughing, Aziraphale let himself be led down the path to the cliffs.

They spread out the blanket, then sat down, Crowley leaning back into Aziraphale’s embrace. “Cocoa, love?”

“Yes please.”

Aziraphale handed Crowley his thermos(red and black, where Aziraphale’s was blue and gold), and he took a sip, sighing. Angel made the best cocoa. “Scone.”

Aziraphale nudged him in amused exasperation. “What do we say, dear?”

“Gimmee.” Aziraphale gently cuffed the side of his head. “Please?”

“Much better.” Aziraphale opened the tin, selecting the biggest scone and placing it in Crowley’s eager hand before selecting one for himself and taking a bite. “Mmm. I must say, these came out jolly good for a first try. We should try cinnamon ones next, I think. What do you think?”

“Yeah, they’re good. Can we try making apple something next?” Aziraphale thought for a moment, then grinned.

“We could do apple fritters, or pie. Maybe even apple cake!” He wiggled happily. Crowley looked up at him, and Aziraphale bent down and dropped a kiss onto his lips. “You taste like chocolate, my darling.”

“You too.”

The kiss lingered for a bit, their hands stroking each others’ cheeks. Crowley reluctantly broke away. “Don’t want to miss sun, Angel.” He turned back around, and together they watched as the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, turning the gray landscape into gold. The warmth soaked into their skin, and Crowley giggled, eyes wide in elation. He never got tired of this, watching the sun come up. It reminded him that he was free, that he was in the light after so long in the dark.

The sun was nearly over the horizon, the golden light softening to orange and the blue of the ocean visible. “Angel...please may I…?”

Aziraphale laughed. “Go on, then.” Crowley bolted upright, walked back fifty paces, then ran towards the cliff, diving off with a scream of joy that made several gulls squawk in surprise. Aziraphale ran to the cliff edge, watching in breathless anticipation as Crowley swooped upward, spinning in the air and yelling giddily. “WAHOOOO!!!”

Aziraphale gasped as Crowley flew in front of the sun, his wings open. The light shone through the feathers, tinting them in every color of the rainbow. “Oh! Crowley, your wings!” He had never seen anything like it. “They’re...oh, my love they’re even more beautiful than ever!”

Crowley laughed, climbing as high into the sky as he could before turning and facing his angel, his wings spread wide. “Angel! Watch!” He turned so he was facing the ocean, then tucked in his wings and began plummeting, building up speed. Aziraphale cried out in shock.

“CROWLEY, DON’T YOU...”

At the last possible second, Crowley pulled out of his dive, glided over the ocean and back up the cliff, landing neatly in front of the doctor. Aziraphale poked his chest. “You enjoy giving me heart attacks, don’t you, you fiend?” Crowley giggled, and Aziraphale shook his head, pulling him down into a kiss. “You’re damned lucky I love watching you fly so much. Come on, let’s finish breakfast.”

Still feeling the heady rush of adrenaline, Crowley let himself be led back to the blanket. “Don’t want breakfast, want Angel.” He whined, tugging on Aziraphale once they were seated. “Kiss Crowley again?”

Aziraphale leaned forward. “As if you even have to ask,” he whispered before pulling Crowley into a passionate embrace. Sighing, Crowley kissed back, climbing into Aziraphale’s lap. If kissing Aziraphale was nice, being in his angel’s lap and kissing him was even Nicer. Angel was running his hands through Crowley’s hair, which was Nicest of all. It made Crowley purr happily. But sometimes, when they kissed, Crowley found himself wanting...wanting more. “Angel?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you...ever want more?” Aziraphale pulled away just enough to look at him in confusion.

“More what, my love?”

“More than just kissing. I...sometimes want more. I think ‘bout you touching me, and it makes me happy. Makes me tingle, thinking about it. Also think ‘bout...bout you...umm...” he made a very familiar and explicit gesture with his hands, blushing beet red. Aziraphale gulped.

“Are...are you saying you think about...having sex with me?” Still blushing, Crowley nodded. “Oh, my love. I would have thought that...after what Sandalphon did to you...”

“Th’ts why I think ‘bout it with you. ‘Cause maybe if I do with you, with someone I love, it...won’t hurt, and I...won’t have the nightmares anymore, and...”

Aziraphale hugged him. “Crowley, love, I won’t lie and say I haven’t thought of it. I have, quite a lot in fact. But the last thing I want to do is trigger a memory in you. Sex is...it can be fun, yes, and also very satisfying, but for me, it’s not...a factor in my relationship with you. Does that make sense?”

“No. Angel not like sex?”

Aziraphale sighed, trying to figure out how to explain his sexual orientation to Crowley. “I...do like it. But it’s not something I **need.** It’s like...well, like the strawberry ice cream in the freezer. I love eating it, but I don’t need it for survival. I love kissing you, and holding you, but if we never do anything else, I’ll be happy. I’m..well, I’m asexual. Do you know what that is?” Crowley frowned, shaking his head. “I’ll show you some sites when we get back to the cottage. Technically, I’m demisexual demiromantic, but it’s a hell of a lot easier to say, well, I’m queer.” 

“Crowley queer too, I think. Maybe.” 

“My dear, your lover is a man. I’d lay a good wager you are.” 

Crowley laughed. “Good point.” 

Much later, after having perused several websites, Crowley came to the realization that he was also asexual. Looking back, he recalled that even when he was Anthony, sex had been something that never held any interest for him. The few times he had gone out with someone, the dates had not ended very well. But maybe with Angel it would be different. 

Crowley smiled to himself and began to plot. 


	3. Hurt Me, Heal Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some comfort in the storm, and a few storms that need comforting. Also reading lessons.

Chapter Three: Hurt Me, Heal Me

It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning crackled through the sky, making the dark night bright with flashes. Thunder cracked and boomed, shaking the small seaside cottage to the foundations. Rain lashed the windows.

Below, the ocean waves were whipped into a frenzy by the wind, and only a few hardy gulls(and one parasailor) braved the elements. Crabs scuttled for shelter.

Inside the cottage, Aziraphale was doing his level best to comfort his petrified lover. Crowley had leapt into his arms at the first crack of thunder, howling in fear and trying to bury himself inside the surgeon. “not like lightning not like noise not like lightning not like noise make stop angel make stop Crowley not like make stop make stop!” he whimpered, over and over, his hands scrabbling at Aziraphale’s back and his face buried in his shoulder. Aziraphale, who had been knocked sprawling, ran his hands up and down Crowley’s spine, speaking in a soft voice. “It’s okay, love, it’s just a storm. We’re safe and cozy inside. Nothing’s going to happen, I promise. Everything is going to be...”

A bolt of lightning turned the sky bright as day, a titanic clap of thunder echoed, and the lights in the cottage went out. “Okay.”

Crowley screeched in horror. “DARK DARK NOT LIKE DARK WANT LIGHT ANGEL WANT LIGHT WANT LIGHT MAKE LIGHT AGAIN MAKE LIGHT!!”

“Crowley, calm down. It’s okay, it’s just a power outage. The lights should come back on soon enough. Tell you what. I’m sure we’ve got some candles around here someplace. Would you like me to find and light them?” A small whimper was all the answer he needed. “Okay, love. I’m going to go find them. Wait here.”

“no no no no no Crowley not want angel go Angel stay with Crowley Crowley scared need Angel...”

Aziraphale sighed. “I know, but I need to stand up so I can go find the candles. I tell you what. Where’s Oscar?” Crowley pointed towards the bedroom. “I’ll go get him, okay? You can hold him while I go look for the candles.” Crowley whined and clung harder. “I’ll be gone for just a second, love. Okay?” The surgeon gently extracted himself from the terrified immortal and groped his way to their bedroom. Luckily, Oscar was in his same spot(right in the middle of the bed) and Aziraphale scooped the unicorn up and went back to the living room. Crowley was sitting on the floor, his wings over his head as he whined and whimpered. “Crowley love, here’s Oscar.” Aziraphale said quietly, kneeling in front of him and holding out the toy. Crowley snatched him, clutching the unicorn tight to his chest and rocking back and forth.

It took a few moments to find both candles and matches, and a bit more to get the candles lit, but eventually the warm glow of candlelight suffused the cottage. Aziraphale sat on the sofa, and Crowley clambered into his lap, still whining. “Crowley not like lightning and noise. Make think of Lightning Stick and noise hurt Crowley’s ears. Not like.”

“Oh, love...” Aziraphale said, stroking his hair. “You’ll always be safe with me, you know that. I’ll be your shelter from every storm.”

Crowley sniffled, nuzzling the soft skin on Aziraphale’s neck. “Crowley not like storms. Why not just rain? Rain not scary.”

“Err, well, I’m not a meteorologist, love, so I can’t really answer that.” Aziraphale said, shifting them both so he was lying on the couch with Crowley on top of him, one wing trailing down onto the floor and the other draped over the back of the sofa. Crowley twined himself around the surgeon, Oscar smooshed between them both. Aziraphale caressed Crowley’s right wing. “We should probably figure out a way to hide these just in case you want to go somewhere.”

“Not go anywhere. World too scary. Stay with Angel always. Find way make Angel like me.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley, we can’t stay cooped up here forever. I need to find work, and you need...you need someone to talk to, someone who can help you through the trauma you experienced. And I’m not that person.”

Crowley shot upright, glaring at him in such hurt that Aziraphale blinked. “Oh, am I too much of a **burden** on you, Aziraphale?! You can’t stand listening to your poor, broken lover **whine** about how he was **tortured?!** Is it just too much for your poor, emotional soul to have to listen to my petty complaints about being treated like less than an animal?! Well, **I’M SO SORRY TO HEAR THAT!** ” 

“Crowley, no, that’s not what I meant!” Aziraphale cried desperately. 

“Well, then what did you mean, **Angel**?” The snarling tone with which he spoke that word made Aziraphale flinch. 

“I meant that...there’s people, professionals, who can listen to your story and not be biased by their feelings. They can help you in ways that I can’t, because unlike me, they aren’t madly in love with you, and they don’t take vindictive glee in hoping Gabriel is being tortured in the deepest pits of Hell. That’s what I meant. You are not a burden, my love. You never will be.” 

“You...you promise?” Crowley asked, head down. 

“By the very Heavens above, my sweet one. Come lie back down? My arms miss you.” Crowley whined softly and once more wrapped himself around his angel. “That’s better, love.” 

The next morning they went outside to assess the damage from the storm. It wasn’t too bad, just a few branches that had fallen off the trees and some bushes that had been uprooted. The path leading to the cliffs was under about an inch of water. Crowley splashed in it, grinning like a loon. Aziraphale shook his head, amused. “ You silly thing.” Crowley giggled. Aziraphale watched, his heart so full he thought it might burst. He loved seeing Crowley like this, happy and carefree. He truly came alive in those moments, and Aziraphale could see a glimpse of the person he had been before. 

Crowley’s memories of when he had been Anthony were almost intact(he still could not remember his childhood or what his mother had been like, and he had never had any memories of his father), and he had told Aziraphale what the surgeon already suspected: Anthony had been a driven man, determined to make the world a better place, full of curiosity and questions(a trait that, he boasted proudly, had gotten him thrown out of a theology class when he challenged the notion that Eve eating the apple was a bad thing.) 

“I mean, the Serpent gave her knowledge. How is that bad? It’s what makes us human, the need to want to know things.” 

Anthony had also, Crowley told him, been an avid and voracious reader, often devouring three books in a day. Sadly, Crowley could barely write his name, much less read. Aziraphale immediately decided to remedy that, and so shortly after they moved to the cottage, he had begun a campaign to reteach Crowley how to read and write. So far it was going rather well. In fact..

“Angel, look! I write your name!” Crowley held up the piece of paper. Written on it in large, straggling letters was ‘Aziraphale.’ “I did that! Wrote name of my angel!” 

“Good for you! Did you read some of your book?” Crowley nodded. The book Angel was teaching him with was called ‘Grimm’s Fairy Tales’. Crowley’s favorite story was The Frog Prince. 

“Crowley read some of it to Angel?” 

Aziraphale beamed. “I would be delighted to have you read to me.” Crowley opened the book. 

“What story?” 

“Whichever you pick, love.”

Crowley flipped to a story at random. “The...Tw...twelve...D..Dancing...” He frowned. “Angel, what this word?” He turned the page so Aziraphale could see. 

“Princesses, love.” 

“Princesses. Once..upon a time, there was a soldier...” Crowley read slowly and carefully, his finger tracing the words on the page as he told the story of the soldier and the princesses who were forced to dance every night until their shoes were worn to pieces. Aziraphale listened raptly, helping Crowley pronounce a word when asked, but otherwise leaving him alone. When he finished, he looked to Aziraphale for approval. The doctor was beaming. 

“Crowley, love, you read that so well! I’m so very proud of you.” He leaned in and kissed Crowley. Crowley kissed back, and soon they were lost in each other. “You brilliant beauty.” 

Crowley’s face went as red as his hair. 


	4. Love Me, Lead Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which An Attempt at seduction is made, consent is important, and comfort is offered.

Chapter Four: Love Me, Lead Me

Crowley was having a rather interesting dilemma. He loved his angel very much, and from his nebulous grasp of the Before Time(when he had been Anthony) that meant that the possibility of sex was on the table. And Angel had, if not expressed outright enthusiasm for the idea, hadn’t shot it down completely. So Crowley knew that the possible probability of seduction followed by sex was most definitely sort of on the table. There was just a few **slight** kinks to work out. 

The first being, of course, that Crowley had next to no clue how to seduce anyone. He had tried draping himself over Aziraphale, nuzzling him, and even giving him what he thought was a sultry look(and made Aziraphale ask if he had a stomachache). 

The second being that while Crowley was very eager for sex with Aziraphale, that didn’t change the fact that his previous ‘sexual’ experiences had consisted of very violent and painful rape, and that this rape had occurred nearly every day for two years. Crowley still had very vivid and detailed nightmares about the ways Sandalphon had hurt and used him. He had told Aziraphale that maybe by having sex with him, Crowley could stop the nightmares from happening. Aziraphale hadn’t seemed to agree totally with that notion, but he hadn’t dismissed it either. 

Crowley sighed, lying back on the grass with his wings spread out to warm in the sun. He  looked around the garden that he was working on, and his gaze fell on the roses. A dim memory came to the surface. He...Anthony had read something once. Something about rose petals and using them to surprise someone. Crowley frowned, trying to bring the memory to the surface. You were supposed to take the petals off the rose and make a path with them to the bed. Candles came in at some point, too. Crowley wasn’t sure. But maybe it would be worth a try? 

He went over to the roses, plucking a handful, heedless of the thorns. Once he had a decent sized bouquet, he tore the petals off, tossing the stems over his shoulder. Okay. Now he had two handfuls of rose petals, and nothing to put them in. He had a basket, but it was in the cottage and he didn’t want Aziraphale to see the petals and ask what he was doing. Crowley shoved the petals in his pockets. There. Step one in ‘Seduce The Angel’ was complete. Now for step two. Candles. 

Crowley crept inside, peeking into the kitchen. Luckily, Aziraphale was busy making bread, and that meant Crowley was able to sneak past him and get the candles out of the desk drawer. Or at least he would have if the candles were there. They weren’t. Instead there was a small collection of torches that Aziraphale had purchased for him following the storm a few weeks ago. 

Crowley grabbed as many of the torches as he could carry and hustled into the bedroom. Right. Now came the strewing of the petals. He took them out of his pockets, staring in dismay. They were clumped together, and quite a few were torn to bits. Crowley tried strewing them on and around the bed. They landed in sad little piles. He blinked back tears of frustration and began trying to arrange the torches. Some stood upright just fine, but others fell over and had to be propped up against the wall. Then there was the fact that some of the lights were brighter than the others. 

Crowley clenched his fists, trying to keep from sobbing. He had to get undressed, right? Sex meant being naked, didn’t it? He started to shove down his pants and had them halfway down his legs when one of the torches fell over and rolled right in his path. His foot slipped, he lost his balance, and fell in a heap of feathers right in the biggest pile of petals, smashing them into dust. 

He stared at the ceiling and burst into loud, heaving sobs. Seconds later, he heard the kitchen door slam and Aziraphale running into the bedroom. “Crowley, whatever is wrong?” 

“Wanted to...surprise...” Crowley couldn’t finish. He was nearly choking on his tears and his humiliation. 

Aziraphale looked around at the rose petals and torches, and smiled. “Oh, you sweet thing. Were you trying to plan a seduction?” Crowley sat up and nodded, wiping his face and sniffling. “You darling.” 

“Stupid. Should have known it not work. Crowley stupid.” 

Aziraphale sat next to him. “Dearest, it was not stupid. It’s terribly romantic, actually. Nobody’s ever tried to seduce me before.” He kissed his beloved immortal, running his hands through the coppery curls. “Tell you what. Why don’t we get on the bed, and just..see what happens? Okay?” Crowley nodded, still looking a bit punch drunk from the kiss. Aziraphale helped him up(and out of his pants). “God, you’re gorgeous. I hope I don’t disappoint you.” 

“Why Angel disappoint Crowley?” 

Aziraphale sighed. “Well...I’m not exactly...um...fit.” 

Crowley frowned. “Fit what?” 

“Err..I’m...soft.” 

Crowley nodded. “Yes. Crowley love soft Angel. Take off clothes.” Aziraphale blinked, then burst into laughter. 

“Well, can’t disobey an order like that, now can I?” He got undressed, Crowley’s eyes tracking his every move. The immortal was nearly drooling by the time he was finished. “Well, here I am.” 

“Angel gor...gorgeous.” Aziraphale blushed. “Angel go apple colored all ‘way down!” Crowley giggled. Aziraphale blushed deeper. Crowley let his gaze wander down the surgeon’s body, all the way to..his eyes went wide. “Angel got big prick!” 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was beet red and laughing. He climbed onto the bed, pulling Crowley into his arms. “Thank you for noticing,” he whispered in his ear. Crowley blushed. “Now who’s apple colored?” 

“Not fair, Angel. Bastard.” 

“Your bastard, my sweet. I’m going to kiss you now.” Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale followed through. Crowley sighed, opening his mouth and allowing his angel to insert his tongue. Aziraphale stroked his arm, then his chest, paying close attention to Crowley’s nipples. Crowley moaned, pressing himself closer. “Crowley, sweetheart, I’m going to start going below your waist with my hand. If you feel uncomfortable for **any** reason, tell me and I’ll stop, okay?” A low moan. “Love, I’m going to need a verbal answer.” 

“Yes. Okay.” 

“Good. I’ve got you, darling.” Aziraphale moved his hand down, gently pressing on Crowley’s waist. “Still okay?” 

“Yes.” 

Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s thighs, then his long, long legs, then his foot. Crowley giggled. “Ah, someone’s ticklish. I’ll have to remember that. Okay, sweetheart. I’m going to touch between your legs. I won’t touch your cock yet, though. You still with me?” 

“Yes, Angel.” 

“Wonderful.” Aziraphale stroked the soft, silky skin on Crowley’s inner thigh. Crowley whimpered, and Aziraphale instantly stilled his hand. “You okay, sweetness?” 

“Okay. Feels nice. That why whimper.” Crowley nudged him. “Keep going?” 

Aziraphale kissed him. “Of course.” He moved his hand, stroking the other side. Crowley whined. “Okay, I’m going to put my hand on your cock. I won’t do anything else unless you tell me to.” 

“Yesss...” 

Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s(rather nice) cock. The immortal closed his eyes, moaning. “Do you want more, darling? Do you want me to…?”

“Want touch Angel.” 

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh! Of course, my love. Touch all you want.” Crowley placed his hand on Aziraphale’s cock. “There we go. That feels lovely, Crowley.’ 

Crowley began to move his hand. His eyes shut, and...and..

“ _That’s right, you fucking slut. Jerk me off, you piece of shit, and maybe I’ll be nice when I’m fucking you. Might even let you get yourself off after. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you goddamn whore? Answer me! God, you’re pathetic. It’s a good thing you’ve got me to straighten you out!”_

“Crowley! Sweetheart, come on back. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Aziraphale pulled the panting, sobbing immortal into an embrace. Crowley shook, tears in his eyes. “What happened?” 

“DrSandy...used to make Crowley...jerk him.” 

“And...when you touched me, it triggered the memory?” Crowley nodded, lip wobbling. “Oh, darling...” 

“Thought it be different with Angel. Crowley too broken to even love Angel right way.” 

“Crowley, there is nothing wrong in the way you love me. Do you still want to have sex?” Crowley nodded, still sniffling. “Then we’ll work through this. It may take a long time, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes. Even if that means we never get past the kissing while naked stage. Okay?” 

“ ‘Kay.” 

“Good boy. Now, what would you say to a nice long cuddle?” 

“Can we stay naked?” 

Aziraphale laughed. “Yes, of course.” 

Crowley sighed happily. Maybe his seduction attempt hadn’t gone so horribly wrong after all. 


	5. Soothe Me, Feel Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale buys something very special for Crowley.

Chapter Five: Soothe Me, Feel Me

Crowley whined, clinging tight to Aziraphale. “Don’t wan’ Angel to go! Don’t wan’ Angel to go!!” Aziraphale patted his head, sighing.

“My dear, I will be gone for twenty minutes, an hour at most. You will be fine, I promise. I just need to go into town and do the monthly shop. You know this. I did it last month as well. Didn’t I?” A whine was the only answer as Crowley burrowed himself further in his angel’s lap. “Didn’t I, love?”

“Mmm hmm.” The answer was whispered against his chest. “An’ didn’t want Angel to go then either.”

Aziraphale sighed. Saying that Crowley had severe abandonment issues was like saying cats are a little bit covered in fur. He went into a panic if he was forced to spend more than an hour apart from Aziraphale, which made a simple task like going to get groceries an exercise in constant reassurance that Aziraphale was a, not going to be gone forever, and b, that yes, he still very much liked being with Crowley. The surgeon had briefly debated with simply having the groceries delivered, but the constant worry that one of the villagers might see Crowley’s wings and go gossiping around quickly quashed that notion. And speaking of wings…

“Crowley, you know, I was planning on getting you something while I was in the village. Something very special. But I can’t get it for you if you don’t let me go there, now can I?” Aziraphale placed his finger under Crowley’s chin and tilted his head up. Scared golden eyes met soft, concerned blue. “You’ll be okay, love. I’m never leaving you, you know that, right?” A sniffle and a nod. “Okay then. Why don’t you go cuddle with Oscar for a bit? Okay?” Crowley wiped his nose with his hand and slid off Aziraphale’s lap, heading towards the bedroom. Aziraphale heard the creak of bed springs as Crowley got himself settled, and sighed in relief.

After a brief look into their room(Crowley was fast asleep, Oscar clutched tight to his chest) Aziraphale put on his overcoat(the sky had been promising rain all day, and Aziraphale didn’t own an umbrella) and started down the path that led to the village nearby. It wasn’t a long walk, and the scenery was quite pleasant. There was even a lovely breeze from the ocean that kept things nice and cool.

Heads turned as he came into the village proper. Nobody was quite sure what to make of this odd duck of a man that showed up once a month like clockwork. He had a routine. He would go to the grocer’s, spend exactly twenty minutes shopping for food, pay for the items in cash, then hoist the two bags on his shoulders and head back out of the village, nodding polite greetings to anyone he saw. Beyond that, he never spoke to anyone, nor did he ever offer to introduce himself. A few of the more curious children had followed him once, coming back with the news that he lived in the cottage right near the edge of the cliffs. That of course got the village tongues wagging as speculation began as to why someone would want to live in such an isolated spot.

“’E’s mob. Hidin’ out from ‘is former associates.” That was Tom, the owner of a small plant shop. Strange Man had come into his store once, looked around, muttered something that sounded like “Crowley could do better” and walked back out without another word. Tom was sure ‘Crowley’ was some sort of mob code for, well, nothing good.

“Nah, he’s performing experiments on animals.” That was Cindy, the owner of a boutique that sold very ugly and very expensive clothing. “’S why he’s so far away, so’s no one will notice anything odd.” This notion, while morbid, was quickly put to rest when it was observed that Strange Man rather liked animals, often stopping to rub the heads of the cats that roamed around the village(and who would purr quite loudly in response). So that was that, but tongues still wagged.

And they wagged even harder when the man, rather than heading right into the grocer’s, turned the corner and walked into Mary Hodges’ clothing shop. Miss Hodges sold dresses, robes, and costumes. She had once been a nun, but the convent had burnt down under ‘unusual circumstances.’ Miss Hodges, or as she was known then, Sister Mary Loquacious, had been one of the few survivors. Luckily, she had had both her talents as a seamstress and her business savvy to fall back on. The shop, simply called Hodges’ Habiliments, had been owned by her grandmother, and Mary had moved back to the village to run it after her death. She was a nice enough person, the villagers agreed, but she could talk the tongue off a dead horse.

Aziraphale clenched his fists, reminding himself that he was a gentleman, and gentlemen did not hit ladies, even if said ladies had started chattering the moment he walked into their shop and would not shut up so he could get a word in edgewise. “And we’ve got some lovely new robes, silk and smooth as anything, and oh, I’m sure your wife would love this”(that was the other thing that was very irritating, how this woman couldn’t tell he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide was baffling) “this was hand sewn by me, like everything you see here, all bespoke, nothing made in China or one of those places with the horrible sweatshops, only good honest British ingenuity, which quite frankly we don’t see enough of these days, and..”

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Aziraphale snapped, wishing with all his might that he had his flask so he could take several drinks. The woman, no doubt the Hodges of the store sign, blinked at him in shock. Aziraphale jumped on the few seconds of blissful silence. “Now. If you would please be so kind as to tell me if I may buy something without learning about where the thread you used to make it came from and how you sew everything by hand.” Miss Hodges(there was no ring, so Aziraphale erred on the side of caution) nodded. “Lovely.” He snarled. “Now, while I make my choice, please be so good as to keep your goddamn mouth **closed.** ” 

He wandered the racks, stopping when he saw a lovely silk robe. It was black, but Aziraphale could see bits of red woven in. It was large, and if Crowley kept his wings folded against his back, would hide them well enough without creating any unusual bulges. Best of all, he thought with a wicked grin, a robe was rather easier to remove than pants. “This one. How much?” 

“Tw...twenty pounds six.” Mary stammered out, a bit cowed by the rather intense expression on the man’s face. “I accept cash or charge.” 

The man grunted, placed the robe on the counter, and pulled out a wad of cash, counting out exact change. “Do you need a bag?” Mary asked. The man gave her a look that made her feel like the dumbest person alive. 

“No, I thought I’d carry it home on my head.” Mary blushed and put the robe in a bag. “Thank you. Good day, Miss.” 

Aziraphale set the bag from the bespoke clothing store down on the step so he could open the front door more easily before picking it back up, walking in and placing the bags in his arms on the floor. He nudged the door shut with his foot, then silently counted down. “Five, four, three, two...”

A blur of red and black came tearing out of the bedroom and leaped into his arms, clinging onto him like a human barnacle and wailing like a foghorn. “Gone too long Angel gone too long where go why not back when say?!! Why Angel leave so long?!” Crowley howled, clinging to Aziraphale as if his life depended on it. “Crowley thought Angel gone forever!” 

“My dear, I would never leave you forever, you know that. Aren’t we trying to figure out a way to **stay together** forever?” Crowley’s only answer was to wail louder and cling tighter. “What ever is the matter?” 

“Crowley not ‘member how make enzyme Anthony made! Can’t make Angel like me!”

Aziraphale frowned. “Yes, that is a...wait a moment. The tapes. The formula for the enzyme is on them, right? Anthony recorded it, I remember hearing that bit. We’ve got the tapes, all we need to do is listen to that one.” Crowley snuffled, and Aziraphale carried him over to the sofa, sinking down into the soft cushions. “I still have some connections in the medical field, a few friends that I can rely on. We’ll find the formula and I’ll ask  one of  my friend s for the equipment needed to extract and synthesize it.” He sighed. “You know this means that I’ll have to..draw your blood.” 

“Crowley know. Also know Angel never hurt Crowley ‘purpose. Now Angel tell why gone long time.”

Aziraphale kissed him. “Well, if you could stop being a human barnacle for a second, I’ll show you.” Crowley reluctantly released his hold, allowing Aziraphale to retrieve the bags. He placed the groceries in the kitchen, then came back and placed the bag from the clothing shop in Crowley’s lap. “For you, my darling.” 

Crowley lifted the robe out, staring at it in rapt awe. “Pretty!” Aziraphale beamed. 

“Oh, I’m glad you think so. See, it’s large enough that your wings will be hidden when you wear it, but not so huge that it would look too bulky on you. And silk is just so lovely against bare skin.” 

Crowley stood and shucked off his pants, grinning at the dark look of desire that suffused his angel’s face. “Angel like?” Aziraphale whimpered. He very much liked. 

“T...try the robe on, please?” Crowley obeyed, and Aziraphale had to clutch the back of a chair to keep from swooning. How the fuck was it possible for his lover to look even **more** gorgeous than he did when he was naked? The robe clung to him like a second skin, showing off every delicious line of the immortal’s body. “T...turn around?” Aziraphale squeaked out, wiping drool from his mouth. Crowley turned, and the sound of the robe moving with him made the surgeon’s blood rush southward. If he had thought the front was alluring, it was nothing compared to the back. 

The robe hid the wings well, and Aziraphale’s eyes roved down the spine, to Crowley’s quite lovely arse. “Y...yeah, that works. Holy fuck, does that work.” 

Crowley grinned. 


	6. Thrill Me, Fulfill Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale look for a therapist. It's not an easy task.

Chapter Six: Thrill Me, Fulfill Me

Aziraphale sat on the sofa, staring at the clock, then at the front door, then at the clock, then back to the door. Crowley, who had been sitting at the kitchen table diligently practicing his writing, came over and sat next to him. “Angel okay?” Aziraphale sighed, then nodded.

“Yes, tickety-boo! Why do you ask?” His voice came out rather higher than normal and Crowley looked skeptical. “Okay, so maybe I’m feeling very nervous about the therapist coming here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to find someone that was willing to make a house call, but I worry that it may just be for this one session, or that they won’t be a good fit for us both, or...”

The sound of knocking interrupted his thoughts. Crowley whined, pressing himself against Aziraphale. “Loud! Don’t like!”

Aziraphale gave him a one armed hug. “It’s okay, love.” He turned towards the door. “It’s open!”

The door opened, and a man in his early twenties entered. He had on a blue suit and carried a small clipboard. His hair was brown, parted very severely in the middle, and he wore gold rimmed glasses. “Misters Fell and Crowley?” Aziraphale nodded. Crowley whimpered, trying his best to hide behind Aziraphale. The man came further into the room, smiling widely. “I’m Dr. Putnam. We spoke on the phone?” He extended a hand, and Aziraphale shook it. Dr. Putnam held his hand out to Crowley, who stared at it, then pressed his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder, whining high in his throat. “Shy, isn’t he?”

‘You would be too if you’d been tortured for two years,’ Aziraphale thought. Out loud, he said “Yes, and I do hope that won’t be a problem.” He turned and spoke softly to Crowley. “Dear, the man is here to help.”

“Your friend is right. I only want to help you navigate whatever might be troubling you. Together we’ll work through your traumas.” Crowley snorted.

“That take more one session. Crowley not like you.” The immortal stuck his tongue out at the therapist, who looked fascinated and scribbled something on his clipboard.

“Lack of verbal intelligence possibly indicating lack of mental intelligence as well.” He looked over at Aziraphale. “Does he often display childish behavior?”

“Crowley not childish!” Crowley said childishly. Aziraphale glared at the therapist.

“I was under the impression you were here so we could discuss certain traumatic elements in our pasts, not so you could ask me if my lover was childish. To save you the time, my childhood was perfectly normal. My mother was an English teacher and my father was a nurse. I have no siblings, and the only family I have now is my cousin, Anathema. My parents both encouraged me to follow my dreams. They died in a car crash two weeks after I graduated medical school. We were members of the COE, but I have not been to church since their funeral. Do you have all the info you need?”

“And you, Mr. Crowley? What was your childhood like?”

“Don’t ‘member.”

“And your parents?”

“Don’t ‘member. Anthony was child, not Crowley. Crowley not ‘member all ‘bout when Anthony.”

Dr. Putnam’s pen flew across the paper. “This is fascinating. Dual personalities! I’ve never come across one outside of my classroom before! This is so exciting!”

Aziraphale bristled. “Just what do you mean, outside of your classroom? Are you still in school?!”

‘Dr’ Putnam nodded, not looking up. “Just started last year, but I figured if I called myself Dr, people might trust me more. Made up a website and everything!”

Aziraphale went red with rage. “Are you telling me that you aren’t even **qualified** to dispense advise yet?! GET OUT!” 

“B...but...” 

Aziraphale launched himself off the sofa so abruptly that Crowley yelped. The surgeon stalked to the front door and wrenched it open. “Please be so good as to get the fuck out of our house,  **Mister** Putnam. And you can be assured that I will  write to your school and tell them that you are practicing without being fully licensed.” 

Putnam blushed, then got up and went out the door, staring at the furious man. “Look, I only...”

“I do not care about ‘only.’ I care about finding someone able to help both me and Crowley, and you are clearly not that person. Good day to you.” He made sure to slam the door in the wannabe therapist’s face before rejoining Crowley on the sofa. “Well, that didn’t go so hot, did it?” 

Crowley climbed into his lap, wrapping his arms around him. “Can take wings out?” Aziraphale nodded. “Angel do it.”  Aziraphale reached around and unhooked the catches holding the flaps on the back of Crowley’s robe in place. Black wings opened, and Crowley flexed them, sighing in relief. 

Aziraphale stroked the feathers. The wing flaps had been Crowley’s idea, a way for him to wear the robe and still be able to fly(the weather was turning cold, and Crowley’s usual method of flying au naturel was not going to be feasible as the temperature started to drop.) Aziraphale, though a skilled surgeon, had zero idea how to alter clothing, so he had swallowed his pride and gone back to Miss Hodges’ shop, fully expecting to be tossed out on his ear.

Instead, she had graciously accepted his somewhat stuttering apology and agreed to make the alterations he needed. She of course chattered endlessly while she worked, Aziraphale only half listening. He was just grateful she didn’t ask why he needed the alterations done. After an hour, she was finished. Aziraphale praised her work(she really was an excellent seamstress, even if her mouth ran like a rabbit) and left her a generous tip. 

“We find ‘nother ther’pist?” Crowley’s quiet voice brought him back to the present. 

“Yes, love, we need to find another therapist. I have this feeling it won’t be an easy task.” 

That proved to be a massive understatement. 

Therapist number two kept grilling Crowley about his ‘abusive relationships’, which caused the immortal to have a violent and vivid flashback of his time in Heaven, which led to a screaming, sobbing, clawing panic attack that took Aziraphale hours to bring him out of. He had bodily tossed that therapist out of the cottage. Crowley had clung tight to Aziraphale for the rest of the day, refusing to even entertain the notion of letting go of him. 

Therapist number three broke out the inkblots, something that Aziraphale was almost sure wasn’t even a thing anymore, and got frustrated when Crowley couldn’t make out any shapes. Aziraphale had coldly suggested that maybe the method wasn’t working, and to try  **talking** to Crowley. Therapist number three had left in a huff. 

Therapist  four was a Freudian. Aziraphale listened to about five seconds of his drivel before asking him to leave. 

Number five had arrived, seen them together(Crowley was draped across Aziraphale’s lap) and launched into a tirade about how homosexuality was no doubt the root of all their problems. This time it was Crowley who did the throwing out. 

Number six had talked to Crowley like he was a two year old, despite Aziraphale telling him that yes, Crowley did have an odd speech pattern but was perfectly capable of understanding people. Crowley, for his part, had refused to even look at the therapist, instead burying his face in Oscar. 

Now Aziraphale was waiting once again for a therapist. He was pretty sure he’d gone through every single one of them in the nearby area. Well, they said that seven was a lucky number. Crowley sat next to him, Oscar clutched to his chest, and Aziraphale vowed that this would be the last one. He knew they both needed the help, and pickings were getting rather slim. 

Someone knocked on the door, and Aziraphale went to answer it. The woman on the other side smiled at him. It was an open, warm smile. “Mr...Fell?” Aziraphale nodded. “I’m Dr. Carter. We spoke on the phone?” 

“Yes, of course. Come in, please.” Aziraphale let her in, closing the door behind them. “Dr, before we begin, I have a few questions.” 

“Of course. Ask away.” She was rather pretty, Aziraphale thought. Blonde hair framed an oval face and brown eyes and she was about five six, wearing a nicely tailored suit. 

“Are you a fully licensed therapist?”

“I am. Been in practice for six years now.” 

Score one point for her, the surgeon thought. “You...aren’t a Freudian, are you?” 

“Heaven forbid.” 

Two points. “In your therapy, do you deal with patients that have suffered severe trauma?” 

Dr. Carter smiled. “That’s my specialty. Have I answered the questions to your satisfaction?” 

Aziraphale sighed in relief. “You have. If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to your other patient.” He led her into the living room, where Crowley sat cross legged on the sofa, Oscar in his arms. Aziraphale sat next to him, gently touching his shoulder. “Crowley, the new therapist is here. Say hello to Dr. Carter.” 

Crowley glanced over at Dr. Carter, then looked back down at Oscar. “D’nt wanna.” 

Dr. Carter  sat down in the chair next to the sofa. “That’s a very lovely unicorn. What’s her name?” 

Crowley frowned at her. “Not her. Him. Name Oscar.” 

“Oscar. What a nice name. Where did you get him?” 

“Angel give to Crowley.” Crowley said, glancing over at Aziraphale. “Was Angel’s, now Crowley’s. Not for you.” He glared at the doctor. She smiled. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t take him from you. He’s your friend, yes?” Crowley nodded. “I have a friend named Cynthia. She’s a turtle, and I’ve had her since I was little. I tell her all my secrets. Do you tell Oscar secrets?” 

“Tell Angel too. But Angel say Crowley have talk to...prof...profe...someone who like you.”

Dr. Carter nodded. “Do you want to talk to me?” Crowley shrugged. “ Well, that’s okay. I know what it’s like to be shy. Do you mind if I talk to Mr. Fell?” Crowley shrugged again. Aziraphale sighed. 

“I have to say, this is the best I’ve seen him behave around a therapist so far, so props to you.” 

“I have the feeling that his trauma was recent?” Aziraphale nodded. “Does it have anything to do with his rather erratic speech?” 

“That’s part of it, yes. He...Dr, I’ll be frank. We have gone through seven therapists in as many weeks. We are both at the end of our ropes. You seem the most qualified of the lot. Crowley’s not snarling at you, which trust me is a huge milestone. So I’m very close to hiring you. But there are a few caveats I insist on.” Dr. Carter indicated for him to continue. “Number one, all sessions must be conducted here. Crowley has severe social anxiety, and I don’t want him exposed to a lot of people. Number two, since we’re both in need of you, the sessions will be conducted jointly. Number three...Crowley, stand up.” Crowley instantly stood. “Show her.” Crowley gaped at Aziraphale. “It’s okay, love.” Crowley reached around and unhooked the flaps, letting his wings spread out, dark and wide. Dr. Carter gasped. “You have to promise that nothing, and I mean **nothing** we tell you will ever get repeated. Crowley could be in extreme danger if it did.” 

Dr. Carter blinked, then shook herself and gazed solemnly at them both. “You have my word. May I?” She  looked over at Crowley’s wings. He nodded shyly and she came over, walking behind him and muttering in fascination. “Are...are they real?” 

“Synthetic. You no touch, though. Only Angel ‘lowed touch Crowley’s wings.” Crowley said, glaring over his shoulder at her. “They work. Crowley fly.” 

“How wonderful. Did it hurt?” 

“Made Crowley...forget. Mind went break.” Crowley shuddered. “Screamed, asked Gabriel to stop but wouldn’t and laughed and kept cutting and cutting and Anthony cried and screamed and begged and tried healing but would heal and Gabriel cut again and again don’t use sleep gas because don’t work and...” His legs gave out and he fell into Aziraphale’s arms, shaking. “Crowley wake up in Dark dark place and not ‘member who he is and...hurt, so much hurt so much hurt...”

Dr. Carter winced in sympathy. Whatever had happened to this man, it was clear that the damage to his mind was extensive. “Mr. Fell...”

“Yes?” Aziraphale looked up from comforting his lover. Dr. Carter looked rather serious, and the fear that she was going to suggest sending Crowley to a mental facility spiked through him. She gave him a soft, reassuring smile. 

“Would Wednesday evenings be suitable for you? Say, seven?” 

Relief like he’d never known before coursed through the surgeon. “That would be perfect.” 


	7. Save Me, Take Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for immortality begins and a milestone is achieved.

Chapter Seven: Save Me, Take Me

Aziraphale and Crowley sat together at the kitchen table, staring at the paraphernalia strewn across its oaken top. Aziraphale had made good on his promise to get in touch with one of the few friends he had left at Soho General and procure the equipment Crowley would need to be able to extract his healing gene so they could try and figure out how to synthesize the enzyme that Anthony had invented. The friend had provided the equipment with the caveat of “I don’t want to know so I don’t get in trouble.” Aziraphale could well understand that.

“Well, how do we start?” Aziraphale asked, looking over at his rather flustered lover. “Crowley?” The immortal was panting, eyes dilated to thin slits as his hands clenched and unclenched. “Crowley, love, remember what Dr. Carter taught you. Name five things you can see in this room.”

Crowley took a shuddering breath. “Umm...table, chairs, picture of rosebush on fridge, apple in bowl, and..Angel.”

Aziraphale took his hand. “Okay, very good. Now four things that you can hear. Okay? Close your eyes and listen.”

Crowley shut his eyes. “Can hear...fridge humming, Angel breathing...um...air conditioning, and...birds outside.”

Aziraphale gently squeezed his hand. “Good, you’re doing wonderfully love. Now three things you can feel.”

“Feel Angel’s hand, rough wood of chair, and..robe.” Crowley took a long, long breath and looked over at Aziraphale. “I’m...okay.” He reached out and touched a piece of equipment. “Just...don’t ‘member what to do.”

Aziraphale was expecting that. “I know, love. But I’m sure it’s in there somewhere, and together I’m sure we can figure it out. But first things first.” He picked up a syringe. Crowley cringed back. “Love, you know this has to be done. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but you know I can’t promise it won’t hurt a bit. It’s been ages since I’ve had to draw blood. But you trust me, right?” Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale smiled. He picked up a cotton swab, poured some alcohol onto it, and rubbed the swab onto the fleshy part of Crowley’s right arm. “Okay, here goes.” He jabbed the syringe into Crowley’s arm. The immortal howled. Aziraphale quickly drew his blood, pulling the needle out. Crowley rubbed his arm, pouting.

“Hurt! Angel mean!” Aziraphale gave him a look. “Okay, maybe not hurt that much. But Angel still mean, and Crowley angry.” The look grew even more. “Maybe not real mad...”

“I thought so, you great baby. You barely felt it.” Crowley pouted. “Love, you know I can tell by now when you’re really hurt and when you’re just playing it up for attention. A tiny little jab like that wouldn’t even register on your healing radar. You just wanted to be dramatic.”

“Wn’ted sympthy from Angel.” Crowley mumbled. Aziraphale chuckled and kissed his cheek.

“Always, my dear. Always.” He placed the syringe on a pad, then opened a notebook that was in front of him. “Okay, so after listening to those tapes about six hundred times, I think I got the formula down pretty well. The only problem is, I can’t make heads or tails of it.” He turned the book towards Crowley, showing him the various equations and numbers that he had scribbled down while diligently listening to the tapes(often backing them up and listening to the same section over and over). Crowley stared at the page for so long that Aziraphale began to get worried. “Crowley?”

Without a word, the immortal picked up a pencil and began to write, brow furrowed in concentration. “Carry six, divide two, add four, this goes here, this there, and three grams...makes...mix with four ounces...means that...need to extract exactly seven ounces from blood to make viable synthetic.”

Aziraphale gawped at him. “How...how did you remember that?”

Crowley blushed. “Always know. Crowley good with numbers. Angel need to draw own blood too. Have to..test with synthetic to make sure it works.”

“Oh! Yes, that makes sense.” Aziraphale yawned, rubbing his face. “It’s getting frightfully late. I say we finish this in the morning.” He put the syringes in a container and placed the container on an empty shelf in the fridge. When he came back into the room, Crowley was no longer at the table. “Crowley?”

“In here, Angel.” Came the call from the bedroom. Aziraphale smiled and went into their room, stopping dead in the door at the sight in front of him. Crowley was sprawled out on the bed, wings spread wide and gloriously naked. Aziraphale gulped, letting his hungry gaze rove over his lovers very delectable body. “Hello, Angel.”

Aziraphale climbed up onto the bed, and Crowley pulled him down into a fierce kiss. The immortal began to unbutton Aziraphale’s shirt. “Aziraphale...love you so much...”

“Love you...ohh...Crowley, do that again...” Aziraphale moaned as Crowley pinched his nipple, then groaned aloud when tongue replaced fingers. “Ffffuckk...” Crowley whined, pushing Aziraphale’s now unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders. Aziraphale tore it off and threw it over his shoulder, then pressed his bare chest against his lover’s, running his hands down Crowley’s spine as they chased each others’ breaths. “Crowley...my dearest...how...far?” He panted, gasping as Crowley helped him out of his pants. He was achingly hard, and the moan he produced when Crowley stroked him would have made a porn star blush. “T..tell me what you want tonight, my darling...”

Since that first attempt at lovemaking(and Crowley’s subsequent panic attack) two months ago, Crowley had slowly been building up his courage, with the gentle help and encouragement of Aziraphale. They had progressed to oral two weeks ago(and Aziraphale had been reduced to a babbling, whimpering wreck by the discovery that his lover had a **very** skilled tongue and mouth), but so far had not gone any further than that. Crowley took a deep breath. “Want...Angel inside.” 

Aziraphale blinked, then pushed himself up on his elbows and looked straight at him. “Say that again.” 

Crowley’s gaze didn’t falter. “Want. Angel. Inside.” He stroked the surgeon’s cheek. “Crowley ready. Know Angel not like...know Angel never hurt Crowley.” 

Aziraphale kissed Crowley with every ounce of love he could. “Oh, my darling...yes.” Aziraphale kissed him again. “A thousand times, yes.” 

That night, the small cottage on the cliff echoed with the sounds of vigorous lovemaking. 

“Angel...ohh...feels...wonderful...love you love you...Aziraphale...more...please...AANNNGEELL!!!” 

“Crowley...you...so...fucking...perfect, so beautiful, so exquisite...mine...you fit..so..well..we...fit..always meant to, I think...love you so much, my gorgeous immortal, **my** angel….my...CROWLEY...” 

“Angel?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Love you.” 

“Love you too. Get some sleep, love.” 

“Snuggles?” 

“Always.” 


	8. Use Me, Bruise Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night loving and conversations.

Chapter Eight: Use Me, Bruise Me

“C...Crowley...” Aziraphale groaned deep in his throat as the immortal sucked a bruising kiss onto his chest, his hands squeezing the surgeon’s plump thighs. “Oh...so good...” Crowley pinched his thighs, making him yelp slightly, then began sliding downwards, sucking, licking and biting the soft, pale flesh presented to him. Aziraphale writhed in ecstasy, moaning words of encouragement as his lover sent him to Heaven and back. “Yes more please Crowley ohhh god feels so fucking good more please oh M….aaaahh!” Words deserted him when Crowley’s skilled mouth enveloped his already hard and aching cock. Stars exploded behind his eyes and it was all Aziraphale could do to bury his hands in Crowley’s gorgeous hair to anchor him in place. The immortal hummed, and Aziraphale whined in response. “Fuccckkk...so...goood...”

Crowley gently bit down, and Aziraphale yowled in pleasure. The immortal smiled to himself, then bit harder, scraping his lover’s cock with his teeth. The yowl this time was louder, and Aziraphale yanked Crowley’s hair. “FUCK….Crowley...I’m going to...I….” Crowley gave one hard, harsh suck and Aziraphale came, howling his release to the ceiling and shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm.

The immortal slithered up Aziraphale’s body, peppering it with kisses, before pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. Aziraphale, still on a high from having his brains sucked out through his cock, sighed into the kiss. He could taste himself on Crowley’s tongue. “You are so fucking good at that.”

“Practice make perfect, Angel.” Crowley said, sighing as Aziraphale began to suck on his neck. “Crowley like to practice loving Angel.” He moaned when Aziraphale slid his hand in between their bodies and began stroking him. “An..Angel still hard?”

“Angel still **very** hard, my sweet immortal. What do you think we should do about that?” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s ear, biting gently on the lobe. Crowley whimpered. 

“Angel? Can...can Crowley be inside?” Aziraphale froze for a half second before grabbing his face and kissing him with every ounce of energy he had. “Does...that mean yes?”

“Yes! Yes, that means yes! How do you want me, my darling?” The surgeon enthused, eyes bright with anticipation. Crowley smiled up at him, running his hands up and down Aziraphale’s spine. 

“Like this. Want to see your beautiful face when I make love to you. But..Angel have to show how to...” Crowley blushed rather fetchingly, and Aziraphale smiled. 

“Of course, my sweet one.” He reached for the lube on the nightstand, pressing it into Crowley’s hand. “Just follow my lead, my gorgeous immortal.” 

Crowley proved to be an excellent and eager pupil. Aziraphale guided his fingers, moaning as he was opened up. “That’s it, my love, move your fingers like thaAAA...oh yes so good Crowley...now...just...” Aziraphale whimpered as Crowley’s fingers were replaced with  something much larger and thicker. The heat and ecstasy of being filled was so intense Aziraphale nearly choked. “Yesss...fuck...you...are...so...” 

Crowley moaned. He knew that being taken by his angel was heaven, but taking his angel was something beyond heaven. It was ecstasy, it was paradise. Angel all around him, above him...then Aziraphale began to move. Crowley grabbed his thighs so hard he left bruises. “ANGEL!” 

“M...move with me, my love...yes, just like that. Oh, Crowley, you are so good...you feel so good..” Aziraphale’s words were slurred and dark with lust as he rode Crowley hard, the immortal matching him thrust for thrust. “I love you so goddamn much...you are my soul, my other half, my sun, moon, and stars, you are my life, my blood, my breath, my...CROWLEY!” Aziraphale howled his lover’s name as he came, body shaking its release. Crowley came moments later, howling out the surgeon’s name. 

Aziraphale collapsed onto Crowley’s chest, both of them panting, spent, and satiated. “Mmm...that was quite lovely.” The surgeon mumbled, stroking Crowley’s hair. The immortal could only nod in agreement. Aziraphale slid out of bed and walked (somewhat wobbly, to Crowley’s not so secret delight) into the bathroom, returning a few minutes later with a wet cloth. He cleaned up the mess, then slid under the covers, pulling Crowley into his arms. Crowley wrapped his wings around them both. “I do love you so, Crowley.” 

“I love Angel too.” Crowley kissed the golden curls. “Angel like being taken?” 

“Mmm, very much so. Though I must admit, no one’s ever been quite so...enthusiastic about it as you.” 

Crowley felt a strange tightness in his chest. “What mean, no one else?” He gulped. “Was...was Crowley not Angel’s first?” 

Aziraphale sighed, propping himself up so he could look Crowley in his eyes. “No. You aren’t.” Crowley looked away, body rigid. “Crowley, darling. Look at me.” Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale moaned, rubbing his face. “ Are you angry that I’ve had lovers or that you aren’t my first?”

“both” came the answer, so quiet that Aziraphale had to strain to hear it. “but mostly angry because...angel wanted it when others...” 

“Oh. Oh, Crowley...” Aziraphale said softly, understanding dawning. He placed his hand on Crowley’s cheek. “Look at me, please.” Crowley turned and looked. Aziraphale blinked back tears. “I wish, with all my heart, that I could turn back time and stop you from ever experiencing the pain that Sandalphon put you through. I would kill him a thousand times over to keep you safe. I love you. You are my world, Crowley. The others...they were nothing compared to the love I feel for you. You have **nothing** to be jealous of.” 

“Promise?” Crowley asked, looking rather small and lost. Aziraphale kissed his forehead. 

“I promise.” 

Crowley sighed in relief. “Good. Crowley sorry for getting mad, Angel.” 

“You’re forgiven, but I’ll have to keep in mind that you’ve got a bit of a jealous streak.” Aziraphale settled back into Crowley’s arms. 

“How many?” 

“How many what, Crowley?” 

“Lovers. How many?” 

“Why do you want to know?” 

“Tell.” 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly promiscuous, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Tell.” 

“Oh for...fine. Counting you, I’ve had six. Two were drunk one night stands that I regretted immediately after, one was my high school boyfriend, another was a quickie in the bathroom of a bar I used to go to when I was in medical school, and the last and most serious one, until I met you, was Sam, my roommate when I was at med school. We lasted for six and a half months, until I walked in on him balls deep inside the captain of the football team. I threw them both out buck naked and proceeded to get drunk and passed out.” 

“Why Angel drink?” 

Aziraphale sighed. He had been drinking a lot less these days, and there was no liquor in the cottage. Out of sight, out of mind. But once, when he went into town, the siren call of the pub proved to be too much to resist. He went in, promising himself that he would have one drink, just one. 

One drink had turned into three, had turned into him buying rounds for everyone, had turned into him staggering home four hours later to a Crowley that was so deep into a panic attack that he had almost torn the cottage to pieces. It had taken Aziraphale the rest of the night and well into the morning to get him even close to calm, and when Crowley had found out why Aziraphale had been gone so long, he had refused to even speak or look at him for the entire day,  no matter how much Aziraphale pleaded and apologized. At their next session, Aziraphale had listened meekly as Crowley laid into him. Dr. Carter, bless her, had said nothing, letting the two of them hash things out. Aziraphale agreed to find some help, and Dr. Carter had offered the name of a group that met two towns over, and was not affiliated with any church. Plus, meetings could be conducted in an online chat. Aziraphale had joined the next day. 

“I started in high school. A bit of fun, you know. Broke into my dad’s liquor cabinet, and shared it among my friends. See, I wasn’t real popular, being gay and bookish, so I started sneaking the jocks some booze, and of course I had to try some too, and...” He sighed. “I’m not really sure when I lost control of it. I’ve told you before that I don’t drive, right?” Crowley nodded. “Well...the reason is because I lost my license after several arrests for driving while under the influence. My last offense, I...nearly killed someone. A pedestrian. I swerved just in time, but the judge gave me six months and took my license away for good.” 

“Why Angel not stop?” 

Aziraphale laughed harshly. “You’d think that would do it, right? Scare me sober. Only it made me fall deeper into the bottle, and by that time I was in med school, and as I’m sure you know, the pressure is intense. I made sure to be sober for classes, but in between, I spent most of my time in an alcohol induced haze. Even when I started at Soho General, I was still drinking. I tried to do the same thing as I did in school, but...” 

“What happen?” 

“It didn’t work.” Aziraphale said in a low voice. “There was...a car crash. Head on collision, three DOAs, one survivor. A little girl, about...six. I was the surgeon on call, and...I was drunk. I operated on her while intoxicated, and...she didn’t make it. The next day, the chief surgeon called me into his office and read me the riot act. I lost my job, and spent the next...two days drowning in booze before Ana called me about Heavenly Labs. So believe it or not, the worst moment of my life lead to the best.” 

“I love you, Aziraphale.” 

“As do I love you. Now, we need to get to sleep. It’s late.”

“Hmm. Angel?”

“Yes?”

“Want pancakes for breakfast tomorrow. With chokky chips.” 

“Of course. Now, go to sleep!”

“Night, Angel.”

“Good night.” 


	9. Chide Me, Revive Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is going to quit drinking cold turkey. He doesn't need any help, thank you very much. (He's lying.)

Chapter Nine: Chide Me, Revive Me

**A Cottage by the sea, three months and one week ago**

“I’m going to quit.” Aziraphale’s determined voice made Crowley look up from his place on the surgeon’s chest. “I’ve made my decision, and I’m quitting.”

Crowley yawned. “Good for Angel. What quitting?”

“Drinking. I’m stopping. No more booze from now on. That bottle I had last night is the last I will ever have.” Aziraphale said, looking very serious. “Oh, and I won’t bother trying to go anyplace. They’re all a bunch of sanctimonious bastards anyway, and I’ve always had a very strong will. I can beat this all on my own. Hell, I probably won’t even get withdrawal symptoms!”

Crowley frowned. “Angel...”

“No no, it will be okay. You’ll see.” Aziraphale kissed the top of Crowley’s head. “Nothing will happen.”

Crowley wished with all his heart for that to be true.

**Three months ago**

Aziraphale couldn’t stop shaking. His mouth felt so dry, and his head was pounding like a brass band. One week since he had quit drinking cold turkey. He could do this. The surgeon wiped a sheen of sweat off his forehead. God, it was stifling in here. Why didn’t the air conditioner want to work? “Hot...”

Crowley looked up from his book. “Angel?”

Aziraphale was pacing back and forth with restless energy. “Sorry, mind’s racing, can’t sit, too much to think about, it’s so hot in here! Look, Crowley. I know I said I’d quit cold turkey, but just one drink can’t hurt, right? Just to calm me down, yeah? Just one?”

Crowley shook his head. “Angel had me throw ‘way all bottles.” He cringed back when Aziraphale stopped, giving him a look of maniacal desperation.

“You...but you know I didn’t mean it! I..meant you should leave just one, to...to test my willpower! That’s what I meant, I didn’t mean to throw them all out!” He cackled, eyes bright with mad tears. “Wait. Wait. The bin’s still full. Trash man hasn’t come yet. Maybe I can get there before he does.” Aziraphale ran for the door. Crowley bolted off the sofa and wrapped his arms tight around his waist. “Let me go, you ass! I need a drink! I need one! Let me go!” He elbowed Crowley sharply in the stomach. The immortal’s grip didn’t loosen. “Let me go! You don’t understand! I need it! I can’t do anything without it! LET ME GO!” He elbowed Crowley again, finally breaking out of his grip, and ran outside to the rubbish bins. “Just one drink. Just one, that’s all that’s all I need. Calm myself down. That’s all.” He muttered, rummaging through the bin. His hand closed around a bottle of whiskey, and with a cry of desperate relief he pulled it out of the bin. “No no no no!” It was empty. Under it was a bottle of wine, also empty. “Oh no no no no no!”

“Angel had me pour out booze ‘fore throwing away.” Crowley’s voice, soft and subdued, came from behind him. Aziraphale spun to face him, eyes wild and wide.

“You..what?! How could you?! You could have left one! You could have...you want this, don’t you. You like seeing me fall apart like this. I should have known. You pretend to care, but you don’t. You never cared! If you cared you wouldn’t have thrown away the only thing that keeps me going! Fuck you!” Aziraphale slapped him hard across the face, then stomped down the path to town. “I’m going to get a drink, and don’t you dare try to follow me!”

Crowley began crying, rubbing his cheek. “Angel...” He began to follow the surgeon, and Aziraphale tuned, shoving him down into the dirt. Crowley began bawling.

“Fuck off, Crowley! I’m going to get a drink, and I don’t want to hear your sniveling! Get back inside!” He turned and walked away.

Sobbing, Crowley went back inside. He curled up on the bed, clutching Oscar as tears flowed down his face. Angel was being so mean. Crowley wiped his nose, sniffling. Why was Angel being so mean? He had seemed so happy just a few days ago, saying how good it was that he didn’t need to drink the bad smelling liquid anymore. He had even helped Crowley pour out the bottles. Crowley cried harder. He didn’t like Mean Angel. He wanted his Angel, the one that never yelled, never raised a hand to him, the one that loved him. Still crying, Crowley drifted off to sleep.

Aziraphale staggered out of the pub, feeling much better, thank you very much. The drinks had been pleasant, though the company had been a bit lackluster. Small minded idiots, the lot of them. Probably never read anything harder than a pamphlet. Aziraphale giggled. Even that was no doubt beyond their capacities. He staggered towards the cottage, singing ‘The Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond’ very off key.

Key. Shit. Where was his key? He’d made sure to tell Crowley to always lock the door at night, just in case. He fumbled in his pockets. No key. Fuck. Well, only one thing for it. “Crowley! Let me in!” Aziraphale cried out, hiccuping. “Crowley..!” He knocked louder. Maybe Crowley didn’t hear him. Maybe he was asleep. Aziraphale considered briefly the notion of breaking a window and climbing in, but the fact that he could barely hold himself upright quickly quashed it. “CROWLEY, LET ME IN! ‘S COLD OUT HERE!” The door opened. “It’s about time!”

Crowley stared at him, the golden eyes showing no expression. Without a word, the immortal stepped aside, letting Aziraphale enter. Crowley turned and walked back to the bedroom, Aziraphale staggering after, using the walls for support. Crowley reached the bedroom first, then, much to Aziraphale’s shock, turned and slammed the door in the surgeon’s face. “What the?! OI, let me in! Crowley, this isn’t funny! Let me in right now!”

The bedroom door opened just long enough for Crowley to shove a blanket and pillow into Aziraphale’s arms before it slammed shut again, and this time Aziraphale could hear the lock clicking into place. He stared at the door, then at the objects in his hands.

Oh. Oh, he had royally fucked up. He went over to the sofa, lying down on it. He was..god, he’d be lucky if Crowley forgave him for what he had done. The surgeon began sobbing. Christ, what a fucking fuck of a mess he had made.

He woke up the next morning with a vicious hangover. He sat up, groaning. At least the sofa was comfortable. There was the smell of coffee nearby. A shadow fell over him, and he looked up into Crowley’s silent face. The immortal slammed the mug he was holding down on the table, causing Aziraphale to wince. “Th..thank you.” He whispered. Crowley didn’t blink, just kept staring at him. Aziraphale took a sip. Just how he liked it, black as sin. “You..did a good job.”

Crowley turned and sat on the far end of the sofa, back to Aziraphale. The doctor gulped, set his coffee down, and scooted towards him, cautiously reaching out. “Crowley, I...” He went to place his hand on Crowley’s wing.

“ _ **Don’t touch me.”**_

Aziraphale’s hand froze. “Crowley, please...I...”

“No, Angel. No please. Booze clearly more important than me.”

“No! Crowley, you know that’s not true! You’re the most important thing in my life!”

“Then why Angel hit and shove me? Thought Angel loved me. Clearly love booze more.”

Aziraphale began sobbing in earnest. “Oh, I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, my love. I fucked up, and I hurt you, and I yelled, and I’ll understand if you never forgive me for this. I thought I could do this alone, but I can’t, I need you, I need you to stop me, I need you to make sure this never happens again, I’ll do anything to make this up. I love you so much, Crowley, so goddamn much, and please, just look at me, please.”

Crowley looked over his shoulder. “You hurt me, Aziraphale. You have **no idea** how much you hurt me. Forgiving you...that’s going to take a while.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I...understand. But please, please tell me that I haven’t...ruined everything. Tell me you still...”

“I still love you. But right now, I don’t want to be around you. I’m going down to the beach.” Crowley stood, then turned and faced the repentant surgeon. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Goodbye, Aziraphale.” He walked out, leaving the very contrite doctor alone with his thoughts.

“Oh...I am such a fuck up.”

Crowley sat on the shore, letting the waves wash over his robe. He picked up a handful of sand, letting it run through his fingers. “Damn it, Aziraphale. Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?” He should have known this would happen, Crowley thought. His angel was usually a lot smarter than this. Why was he refusing to get the help he knew he needed?

Crowley’s wings twitched. He so longed to go flying, but he knew with the way his mind was churning that it would be a short one. He flapped them, sending the sand around him up in a small whirlwind. Maybe just a quick one over the ocean, very low. He stood, kicking upwards.

The ocean was cool under his fingers, and Crowley could look down and see schools of fish darting beneath the waves. He flew lower, letting the tips of his wings dip down into the water, before turning and heading back to shore.

Aziraphale was sitting at the kitchen table when he came in, a plate of food in front of him. There was another plate in front of Crowley’s chair. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You um...you have a good time at the beach?”

“Yeah. Flew for a bit. Just over the ocean. Low.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Good. That’s, uh...that’s good. I..um...I made your favorite for breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes. They’re still hot, just came off the stove. And, um...there’s cocoa too, if you want. With cinnamon.” He said, looking down at the plate in front of him. “I know it’s… a pretty poor apology, as things go, but...”

Crowley sat down. Aziraphale smiled tentatively. “I..put extra chips in yours.”

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale felt a surge of relief. “You...you’re welcome.”

**Present Day**

Aziraphale signed off from his session with his sponsor, Jerry. He had been a godsend, Aziraphale thought. Jerry had, much like Aziraphale, been in a very stressful job(in his case, the head of a law firm) and had turned to booze for solace. He had ended up losing his car, his house, and nearly his job. But he had sought help, and was now, he proudly declared, coming up on one year of sobriety.

Aziraphale reflected that Jerry was just the sort of man, if they had met under different circumstances, that he would consider a good friend. Jerry knew he was gay(Aziraphale had waxed rhapsodic about Crowley when Jerry asked if he had any family to support him) and hadn’t judged him for it or started spouting Scripture about how it was a sin(which was a big reason why Aziraphale had never gone back to that Other Place a few years back). Jerry had a lovely wife and two kids, he told Aziraphale, and they had been instrumental in his decision to stop drinking.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale turned and smiled at Crowley. “Hello, my love.”

Crowley came over and slid into his lap, wrapping his arms around the surgeon. “You scare me last week.”

Aziraphale hugged him. “I scared me too. I thought, since things were going so well, that I could...but I couldn’t. You...Crowley, you’ve been so brave for me, helping me through the worst of it. Remember?”

“I ‘member. Angel got real sick. Talked to people not there.” Crowley whispered. “Also have bad bad dreams.”

Aziraphale shivered. That had been the worst part about quitting. For so long, the booze had been a way of stopping The Dream from happening, or at the very least dampening its effects. Now though, the Dream returned full force, along with several new nightmares that had the surgeon waking up screaming. He had begged and pleaded for Crowley to let him get one bottle to keep by the bed as a deterrent. When that hadn’t worked, he had yelled, screamed, and accused Crowley of trying to drive him crazy. That had gotten him banished to the sofa for nearly a week.

Then came last week, when he had gone into the Dirty Donkey for the first time in four months, certain that he had his drinking well enough under control that one drink would be plenty. It hadn’t been, and Crowley had worked himself up into a serious panic attack by the time Aziraphale had come home.

“I love you so much, Crowley. I don’t think I tell you that enough.”

“Love you too, Angel.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself. He could do this.


	10. Praise Me, Amaze Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale discovers that immortality has certain...side effects.

Chapter Ten: Praise Me, Amaze Me

Aziraphale looked at the small object on the table, then looked at Crowley, then back to the table. “This is it.” Crowley nodded, hope and fear shining in his eyes. Aziraphale was certain his eyes showed the same emotions. The surgeon picked up the syringe, staring at the golden liquid suspended inside.

Three weeks. It had taken three weeks, with Crowley taxing his mind and memories to the limit, to recreate the immortality enzyme. The immortal was exhausted, scared, and hopeful. Tests on Aziraphale’s blood had shown promise, but Crowley well knew that what worked under lab results did not always translate to working in real life. “Angel, if you don’t want to...”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I do want to. I’m just, well, to be quite honest, I’m terrified. I haven’t asked anyone this in a very long time, but could you hold my hand? Just feeling your touch will be enough to calm my nerves.” Crowley took Aziraphale’s free hand in his own. The doctor took a deep, steadying breath, then plunged the syringe home.

Aziraphale gasped, went stiff, then began shaking. “Crowley...oh...FUCK that BURNS...” He squeezed his eyes shut, panting. Crowley whimpered. What if it went wrong? What if Angel died? What would Crowley do without him?

“An..Angel?”

Aziraphale gasped, his eyes flying open. “Well. Not something I’d recommend everyone try, but I seem to have gotten over the worst of it. Now to test if it works. Hand me that knife, please?” Crowley slid over the small paring knife. Aziraphale took a deep breath, then sliced open his palm. “Ow!” He blinked, then grinned. “Crowley, look!” He held his palm up, and the immortal watched as the cut closed up, scabbed over, and left smooth skin in its place. “It worked! I’m like you now!”

Crowley tried to smile. “Angel heal self, but...”

“But what?”

Crowley looked down at the table. “My immortality didn’t kick on until I was six. It...was triggered by my falling out of the tree.”

Aziraphale blinked. “But, you told me you died when you...oh.” The surgeon went pale, and Crowley gulped. “I...I have to die, don’t I? That’s how the immortality gene in the enzyme is triggered. By death.”

“Yes. But the first death must be a fall.”

“First death?! How many times do I have to die?!” Aziraphale said, shock and fear in his eyes.

“I...I don’t mean...I only mean...to trigger it.”

“Crowley. How many times have you died?”

Crowley shivered. “Ten. I...there were a few times, back in Heaven, where I didn’t...initially survive the beatings. Being immortal doesn’t mean we can’t get hurt, or even killed. It just means that those effects aren’t permanent. But it also doesn’t mean that...Death actively seeks us out. So long as we’re careful, nothing will happen. Angel, if you want to extract the enzyme...”

“No. I made my decision long ago, Crowley. If falling is what it takes to be with you for the rest of eternity, than falling is what I will do.” Aziraphale stood and headed outside towards the cliffs, Crowley following.

They reached the edge, and the surgeon looked down. “That’s...that’s quite a long ways, isn’t it?” Crowley didn’t say anything. Aziraphale took both his hands. “Crowley, love, look at me. No matter what happens, remember that this was my choice, and I’m walking into it with my eyes wide open.” Crowley gave a small nod, and Aziraphale kissed him. “If...if this doesn’t work, for whatever reason, I want you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“I want you to promise you won’t blame yourself. Promise me that.” Crowley looked stricken. “Promise me, my love.”

“Cr...I promise.”

Aziraphale pulled him into a long, loving kiss. “I love you more than I have ever loved anyone.” He gave the immortal one last look, then spread his arms wide and let himself Fall.

Crowley heard the thud as Aziraphale’s body slammed into the ground far below. He flapped his wings, then dove off the cliff, coming to land next to the prone body. “Please let it work, please let it work...” He knew that resurrection could take anywhere up to three hours, depending on the severity of the death. He sat cross legged on the sand, his eyes never leaving Aziraphale’s body, a silent prayer on his lips.

Five minutes. Nothing. Crowley gently rearranged Aziraphale so he could sit up better when he came back. He brushed the sand from his blond hair.

Twenty minutes. No movement, and Crowley was beginning to get very worried. He dug a hole and found some shells, stacking them into piles as a way to keep himself occupied. “Please don’t leave me...please let it work...”

Thirty minutes. There was a loud, harsh gasp, and Crowley’s head snapped up. “Aziraphale!”

The surgeon blinked, then moaned. “So. Falling off a cliff. Not fun.” Crowley giggled and helped him sit up. “Oh...oh my head...”

Crowley smiled in sympathy. “Yeah, head aches when first come back. Is body adjusting.”

Aziraphale groaned, burying his face in Crowley’s shoulder. “’I’ve had hangovers that didn’t give me headaches as bad as this one. Feels like my skull is splitting open. In fact, I...I..” he twisted away from Crowley and vomited onto the sand. Crowley rubbed his back.

“Angel feel better soon, I promise.”

“I’d better, because right now I don’t think I can walk back up those cliffs without falling again.” He looked up at the skinny Crowley. “Don’t suppose you’d be able to carry me? Got a well of hidden strength?” Crowley shook his head. “Right. Well, guess we’re spending some time on the beach. At least the weather’s nice.” Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale settled back into his arms. “Y’know, if it wasn’t for the fact that sand gets absolutely **everywhere** combined with the fact that I’m seeing three of you right now, I’d suggest we get naked and fuck like wild animals, because I am feeling rather horny for some reason. Maybe it’s the thrill of survival.” He whispered against Crowley’s throat, teeth scraping the flesh. 

Crowley shuddered in lust. “C...could move to grass.” He pointed over his shoulder, groaning when Aziraphale slid his hand under his robe and gave his cock a squeeze that made him yelp. “Ngel!”

Aziraphale smirked. “Ahh, there’s the real Crowley.  Oh, and good news. I think my headache is going away. So, grass?” Crowley shot to his feet, grabbed Aziraphale, and dragged him over to the patch of grass near the beach. Aziraphale shoved him down, then with a growl, pounced on him, pulling the immortal into a deep, hard kiss. “Need you...” he growled, hands diving under the robe to scratch and grope the pale, smooth flesh beneath. Crowley gasped, arching up into his angel’s hungry touch. “Let’s get this thing off, shall we?” Aziraphale grabbed the hem of the robe. “Arms. up. Now.” Crowley raised his arms, and Aziraphale yanked the robe off. “Lovely. And  **mine.** ” He pinched Crowley’s nipple hard, eliciting a sharp gasp. “Say it, Crowley.”

“S..say what?” 

Aziraphale smiled, then leaned down and bit his earlobe. “You. Are. Mine. Say it.” 

“’M yours, Aziraphale, always, now, forever, love you...” He blinked up at his angel. “Why still dressed?” 

Aziraphale gave him a grin that went straight to his cock. “Oh, I should probably rectify that, shouldn’t I?” Crowley nodded, watching avidly as his gorgeous lover undressed, piling each item of clothing neatly. The immortal smiled. Even in the grips of lust, Aziraphale still couldn’t bear to just strew his clothes haphazardly. “ Better?” 

Crowley nodded, taking in the mouthwatering sight that was Aziraphale naked. He hooked his hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a hard, passionate kiss, their bodies pressed together. Crowley’s hands roved down the perfect spine, so soft and warm, then grabbed on to the angel’s lovely plump arse, squeezing hard. Aziraphale groaned into his mouth and rutted hard against him. Stars burst before Crowley’s eyes, and he traced the surgeon’s cleft with one dexterous finger. “Angel want give or receive?” 

Aziraphale smirked, then began sliding down Crowley, biting, licking, and sucking every inch of him “Both. See, I was rather hoping to suck your brains out through your cock and then have you fuck me bowlegged. How does that sound?” He reached his destination, giving it a long, slow lick from base to tip. Crowley whimpered. “Need a verbal answer.” 

“NGK.” 

Aziraphale giggled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“A...ahh..ANGEL!” Crowley’s mind went blank as Aziraphale swallowed him down. “Ffffucck...” He buried his hands in the blond hair, gasping out encouragement as his angel worked his magic. “Az..Angel...yesss...more...ssoo good...A...Ah ah ah godd...oh...jesssusss...ss...so...fucking...good...I...AZIRAPHALE!” 

Aziraphale swallowed him down, then licked up what his mouth had missed before looking up at him with a smirk. “Your turn, I think.” 

Crowley blinked, then lunged, pinning Aziraphale beneath him and kissing him hard. “Angel be ‘kay without...lube?” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Yes, I will be fine. Now, if you would be so kind as to put that marvelous cock of yours up my arse and fuck me until I can’t think straight, I’d be most obliged.” 

Crowley grinned. “Angel never think straight.” 

“Crowley, I...OH DEAR GOD!” Aziraphale’s breath left him as Crowley slammed home. “Ohh...YESSS...” 

“This what you wanted, Angel?” 

“Oh, fuck yes...please...”

“Whatever my angel wants.” 

“Want you, always want you...” Aziraphale moaned, then lost himself in the feel of Crowley pounding him into the grass. 

By the time he came back to himself, he was panting, sweaty, and feeling much, much better. The sun had gone down at some point, he noticed idly. Their bodies were sticky, and Crowley looked as wrecked and happy as Aziraphale. “Want to go for a swim and get cleaned up?” Crowley nodded, panting. 

They stumbled back to the cottage twenty minutes later, locked in another embrace. “I don’t...usually not so...insatiable...” Aziraphale groaned, biting and sucking on Crowley’s bottom lip. “Feel like...like I could fuck you for hours and not tire...”

“Y’can. Healing gene..means..less of a ‘fractory...”

Aziraphale pulled back to look into his lover’s golden eyes. “Crowley. Are you saying that we could have marathon sex sessions if we wanted?” Crowley nodded. “How...how long?” 

“Dunno. We should test it.” 

Aziraphale grinned like a demon and dragged him into their bedroom. 

They would emerge two weeks later(barring times they took breaks to eat and get cleaned up). 


	11. Love Me, Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel gets his wings, and all is well.

Chapter Eleven: Love Me, Eternity

“Anathema! You got a letter!” Newt looked at the envelope in his hand. Their address was written on it in neat, copperplate writing. There was no return address, but the postmark was from the South Downs. Anathema looked up from the story she was writing.

“What’s that?”

Her husband(and Newt still got a little dazed when he thought of that) set the envelope down on her keyboard. “Said you got a letter.” Anathema looked at it, eyes going wide.

“It’s from Aziraphale!” She ripped it open, and two pieces of paper fell out. On one was written what looked like an address and a quickly sketched map. The other was folded up into threes. Ana set aside the scrap of paper and picked up the letter. “I’d recognize that handwriting anywhere!”

“Aziraphale? Your cousin?” Ana nodded. “Wait, so he just drops out of sight for a whole year, misses our wedding, and out of the blue decides to write to you?”

“Yes, now hush, I’m trying to read.” She flattened out the letter, and Newt peered over her shoulder.

‘ _My dearest Anathema:_

_I realize that this letter will most likely come as a shock, seeing as how the last time I saw you was nearly a year ago. I hope you and Newt are doing well. I am sorry that I had to miss the nuptials, as I am sure they were lovely, but I cannot risk Crowley. I cannot risk myself. Though Heaven was destroyed, there are still so many like Gabriel out there, who would take my love and return him to the desperate state he was in when we met. I have cut myself off from the world to keep him safe, and I would do the same thing a million times over._

_He has changed so, Ana. The scared, broken man that told his story to you a year ago is now thriving. He has his bad days, as do I(you will be thrilled to know I’m coming up on one year sober) but we have our love for each other and the knowledge that we are meant to be together. He and I both know that he will never again be Anthony, but now Crowley is a whole person in himself._

_I have sent you our address and directions on how to get here. I only ask that you do not tell anyone where you are going, and that you burn the contents of this letter and the map when you are done reading. I know it sounds paranoid, but I cannot take even the smallest risk of discovery. If you would like to come for a visit, we would be delighted to have you. (Newt as well)_

_Your cousin, always:_

_Aziraphale.’_

Newt looked over at his wife. “So...when do we leave?” Ana grinned, loving that Newt knew her so well.

“Tomorrow. I’ve got to submit this story tonight, and then once that’s done we can get packed and leave in the morning.”

Anathema programmed the map into her phone, then tore it and the letter into tiny pieces, tossing them into the garbage.

“Angel, come on! Time to go watch sun!” Crowley poked his lover in the chest. Aziraphale cracked open one beautiful blue eye and glared at him. Crowley grinned. “Come on, we miss it!”

“Crowley, darling, love of my now eternal life, if you don’t let me go back to sleep I shall throw something at you.”

Crowley mock pouted. “But Angel love to watch sunrise!”

“Angel also only got to sleep about two hours ago, if you recall.”

Crowley giggled. “Okay, Crowley go by his self. Was going to show Angel more ‘bout flying, but if Angel want to not learn...”

Aziraphale threw a pillow at him before climbing out of bed. “That is a dirty trick, my love. Where’s my wings?” Crowley pointed over his shoulder. “Oh good, right where I left them.” Aziraphale went over to the closet. Just inside the door was a huge pair of white wings, a harness dangling from the middle. Aziraphale carefully took them out, running his hands over the feathers, checking the harness and arm straps, making sure the metal skeleton was intact and there were no holes in the canvas.

It had taken him nearly seven months to make these. Seven months of painful, backbreaking labor as he learned a new skill from scratch. He had never been so happy to have nimble fingers. Crowley, happily, had remembered how he made his own wings, and patiently shown Aziraphale how to make them light enough that they would work, yet not so light that they couldn’t hold his weight.

There were, of course, many jokes made about the angel having the white wings. Aziraphale had wryly pointed out that he was about as far from an angel as possible, only to go beet red when Crowley had kissed him and said “You Crowley’s Angel, that makes you best angel.”

There had also been a few times during construction where Crowley had retreated back into the past, remembering the way his wings had been forced onto him. Aziraphale had held him, whispered that he was safe, and reminded him that his wings were beautiful, and how happy flying made him.

“Come on, Angel!” Crowley urged, tugging him back to the present. Aziraphale hoisted the wings onto his shoulders, and together they marched towards the cliffs. Once there, Crowley helped Aziraphale strap on his wings and tighten the straps. “Give ‘em a flap?”

Aziraphale flexed his arms and the wings flapped. “All good.” He grinned. “Now, I believe you were going to give me more flying lessons?”

Crowley nodded, then tilted his head. “Y’know, we could make harness hold control. So Angel’s arms not get tired.”

“That’s a good idea. We’ll draw up some plans later. But right now, can we please go flying?”

Crowley’s answer was to launch himself off the cliff. Aziraphale blinked, then jumped right after. Crowley had been right about one thing, he thought. Flying was a thrill like no other. He flapped his arms, and the wings moved, sending him skyward. Crowley was waiting for him, his powerful wings beating as he hovered in place. “Ready to climb, Angel?” Aziraphale nodded, grinning, and Crowley climbed towards the sky, Aziraphale following. “Angel still okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t want crash like last time.”

Aziraphale blushed. “No, me neither. But that’s why the lessons, right?”

In truth, the lessons had been going rather well. In the month since the first rather disastrous test flight in which Aziraphale plummeted off the cliffs and landed onto the sand, breaking his neck and stumbling back to the cottage twenty minutes later to a petrified immortal, he had only really had one other bad crash, and that one had been into the ocean. He had been low enough that the only injury was to his pride.

Crowley had put his foot down and insisted that he teach Aziraphale how to fly. Aziraphale had been wary at first, but Crowley proved to be an excellent teacher, and Aziraphale an even better student.

After a few more swoops and loops, they went back to the cliff, sat on the edge with their legs dangling over, and watched the sun come up, their arms around each other and their heads on each others’ shoulders.

A strange sound made them look up and around. Crowley’s eyes widened. “CAR! Angel, car! Car here!” Two figures climbed out, one tall, one a bit shorter.

Aziraphale blinked. “I...well, I don’t know if you could call a Reliant Robin a **car** , my dear. It’s more like a contraption. But who...oh! It’s Anathema and Newt! They must have gotten my letter! ANA!” Aziraphale cupped his hands to his mouth. “ANATHEMA, OVER HERE!” The taller figure turned and waved, and the two figures made their way down the path to the cliffs. Once they arrived, the two new arrivals stood staring at the couple. Anathema spoke first. 

“Hey Aziraphale. Nice wings.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes, stood, and pulled her into a tight hug. Anathema blinked in surprise for a second, then hugged back just as tight. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, my dear. Newt, good to see you again.” 

Newt’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Yeah, you too. Umm...aren’t you guys awfully close to the edge?” 

Crowley grinned. “Nah, we’re fine. Watch this!” He stood and clasped Aziraphale’s hand. “Count off, Angel.” 

Aziraphale’s grin was manic. “Five...four..three...two...ONE!” 

They dove backwards off the cliff. Anathema and Newt screamed in terror, racing towards the edge. 

“What on Earth is all the yelling about?” Ana looked up. Aziraphale was...flying. Crowley was next to him, both of them looking like the cat that got the cream. 

“You scared me half to death, you numpty!” Ana said, swatting at her cousin. Aziraphale giggled. “So, now that you’ve aged me by a hundred years, wanna tell me how you managed to make working wings?” 

Aziraphale landed in front of her, shucking off his wings and folding them up for easier carrying. Crowley landed next to him, folding his wings up against his back. “Come on, let’s go in. I’ve got quite a story to tell. And Ana, before you ask, NO. This story you cannot print.” Aziraphale looked so stern that Anathema blinked, then nodded. 

“You have my word, Aziraphale. And I won’t tell anyone about where you live. Umm...do the villagers…?” 

“They know that I live here, and that I come into town once a month for supplies. We...I won’t say I’m friends with any of them, but they’re all polite enough when we meet.” 

“Do they know about...” she pointed to Crowley. Aziraphale sighed. 

“No, they don’t. And I want to keep it that way, especially since, well, I’m like him now.”

Newt blinked. “What do you mean, like him?” 

Aziraphale sat back on the sofa. “Well, it all started with a garden and an apple...” 

Two hours and three cups of coffee(and one of cocoa) later, Anathema finally spoke. “Immortal.” 

“Yes.” said Aziraphale. 

“As in, live forever?” Newt said, still gobsmacked. 

“That is the definition, yes.” Crowley said, leaning into his angel and grinning at the pair. 

“And...you can heal yourself. From anything.” Ana said. 

“Yes.” This time both of them spoke in unison.

“And...you aren’t electing to share this with the world because?” 

Aziraphale looked solemn. “Because neither of us want to risk another Gabriel. If we share our discovery, and Crowley is found, he..what if he gets put in a place that was worse than Heaven?” 

Anathema blinked, then grinned. “I may have an idea...” she leaned forward, and began talking. Aziraphale and Crowley listened, eyes wide, and eventually they began to grin as well.

“Of course, we’d have to do some tweaking, so that it can still help heal, but maybe not make everyone who takes it immortal. But if you really think this would work...” Aziraphale said, eyes bright. “What do you think, love?” 

Crowley sniffled. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to use my healing factor for. Changing the world for the better. I say we go for it.” 

**Two years later**

“Angel, look! It’s in the paper! Ana’s article!” Crowley came running into their cottage, a paper in his hands. He tossed it onto the table in front of Aziraphale, who looked up from the book he was repairing. 

About eight months ago, Aziraphale had decided to try book binding as a hobby. Much to his shock, he took to it like a duck to water. A hobby turned into offering to repair some books for a few of the townspeople, which led to Aziraphale setting up an online business. He wasn’t making as much as when he was a surgeon, but neither was he waking up every night screaming. “Oh! Lovely! Read it, would you? My hands are rather dusty at the moment.” 

Crowley smoothed out the paper, cleared his throat, and began reading. 

“Major Breakthrough Discovered In Tapes of Dr. Anthony Crow.

A major medical breakthrough has been discovered in the tapes left by Dr. Anthony Crow, the former head of Eden Labs. An anonymous source told this reporter, ‘Dr. Crow wanted to change the world, and now he can, even if it is from beyond the grave.’ This reporter was given the tapes, along with Dr. Crow’s notes and formula, in a certified package nearly a year ago, with the note ‘Find someone who will use this wisely.’ After much research, I gave the tapes and notebook to a Dr. Malcolm Drew, well known for his humanitarian work. Together with his colleagues, Dr. Drew worked tirelessly in synthesizing the enzyme that Dr. Crow had discovered. 

Tests on lab rats showed great promise, and  human testing began two months ago. ‘This could very well change everything’, Dr. Drew says. ‘I only wish Dr. Crow were here to share his discoveries with the world.’” Crowley looked over at Aziraphale. “Angel?” 

“Do you wish that you could...share with the world?” 

Crowley slid into his lap. “Angel, I already have.” He pulled him into a soft, deep kiss. 

“ **You** are my world.” 

“And you are mine.” 

Crowley kissed him again. “To the world.”

“To the world.” 


End file.
